Kill Me
by mandaree1
Summary: Amethyst is a petty thief on the streets. Pearl is a professional assassin. This is what happens when you don't scout out your target in a home invasion.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Steven Universe!**

 **Title: Kill Me**

 **Summary: Amethyst is a petty thief on the streets. Pearl is a professional assassin. This is what happens when you don't scout out your target.**

 **Warnings: Lots of cursing! Death threats, but most are joking. Sexual innuendos, and trans Amethyst just generally being awesome.**

 **...**

Amethyst almost jams the lock pick into the side door, but then she realizes the door is cracked.

She hesitates to go inside. This is a big city, and for somebody to be so careless with their security usually implied a weapon on the property. Or a dog. Then she considers exactly what she's gambling- death from a gunshot vs. death by starvation- and pushes inside.

The door opens into a hall where you keep your coats and shoes. Amethyst isn't skilled in either market, so she says fuck it and leaves them be. The next area is a kitchen. There's tile counters and smooth wood floors, and the island in the center has a pot of freshly bought flowers in it. The card attached to it is lewd and entirely inappropriate for a gift like this, which is usually saved for a friendly Valentine's Day present.

Amethyst ignores the flowers and heads for the silverware. Let lover boy screw up his own shit. She opens the cabinets and drawers, quietly shutting them behind her. Nothing but your average utensils and cheap glasses. Damn.

The living room is basically a flat screen flanked by two squishy black couches. Movies and CDs stay on closed and well-dusted racks. She yearns to take it all, make a killing and head for the nearest buffet, but equipment is tricky and best saved for emergencies only.

A feeling of panic settles in her belly. Beings that be, it's hard to keep cool in a house that's obviously not her own, especially illegally, and she spends a minute gnawing on a thumb nail before continuing.

Nothing in the downstairs bathroom, or the closet, especially considering she hasn't been in one in ages. Not one to push her luck, Amethyst found the idea of going up creaky steps appalling. A re-search yields nothing. Fuck.

Amethyst flops back on the one couch. A nickel pokes her in the ass, and she pockets it, praying to Lady Revenge (one of two Goddesses she actually prays to on a regular basis- the other being Lady Karma) that her thin sweats won't let it fall out. Her black shirt, tied close to her skin, is wet with perspiration.

 _Snap!_

Amethyst flinches, punching herself in the mouth to avoid screaming. That's a footstep right there. Yup. No mistaking it.

Shit. Fuck. She felt a sudden insecurity; if somebody came down with a gun, she had no way of fighting back. Dumbass! She wants to shoot herself with said imaginary gun. In the foot. With one of those splodey-bullets.

Carefully pulling herself off the sofa, Amethyst shuffles across the carpet to the bottom of the stairs. Y'know, if she backed out now, she could always go to a bar and find some idiot to bang and rob. It didn't have to be murder night.

She squints into the darkness. Nothing. It felt like time was at a standstill, empty and lifeless. She feels her curiosity rising again. Apparently, her curiosity really _does_ want to get her killed.

Amethyst tip-toes back to the kitchen, grabs a steak knife, and returns. Fuck, she's actually doing this. She must really want to die. She sets her foot on the first step. It lets out the sound of a cat being skinned alive and then thrown into the flames. There's no real going back now, because fuck logic.

She surrenders stealth and casually makes her way up the remaining stairs. The second floor opens up in a landing with two doors, and a crawlspace above, if the string that hits her nose means anything.

Amethyst palms her blade and opens the first door. An empty bedroom. She opens the second bathroom. Empty bathroom.

Amethyst isn't stupid enough to think she made the noise up. She knows, logically, that that means they either went into the attic or jumped out a window. Seeing how a two-floor fall can break bones, she's led to believe it's the former.

Summoning all the courage and stupidity of her drunk self, Amethyst pulls down the attic stairs and makes her way up. If they're in the house, there's no way they don't know she's here now.

It's dark as hell in there. Can't see past her own face. Cramped, too; she has to crawl to make her way, and can only imagine how a normal human does it. She touches something warm and solid. It has almost no give to it.

Amethyst pulls back to find her hand sticky.

"What the fu-"

Something wooden hits her in the back of the head.

* * *

Amethyst comes to in a bedroom she's never seen in a house she can only assume is in fuck-all middle of nowhere. It occurs to her that her life has sunk fully into a horror movie scenario, and she kicks out with a curse. She just _had_ to get the serial killer with a lust for short homeless girls.

Ropes have firmly lashed her to the headboard, hands left palms up behind her back. Fuck, it's one of _those_ horror movies. At least the bed is comfortable.

Amethyst glances around. It's highly unlikely this is a guest room, she realizes. There's a personal touch to it, from the jewelry hanging haphazardly to the dresser to the faint whiff of perfume clinging to the air. She wonders if it's possible to unbind herself and steal the diamond necklace left in the open on what looked to be an antique music box before the serial killer gets back. That's when she realizes that the pounding isn't just from a headache; there's a handgun pressed to her temple.

"Fuck." She whimpers.

"What did you see?" A voice hisses.

"See what? I don't even know where I am!" She lets her eyes tear up. She hates crying in front of others, but pity might help her to die faster. "Listen, honey, ain't nobody gonna believe me. I'm a shallow bitch. I was only there to steal some stuff and get out."

The gun falters. "You weren't his girl for the night?"

"Who's girl?"

"That's answer enough." The voice returns to the defensive. "I need to know what you saw."

"Literally nothin', I swear. Let me go. Please, for the love of Karma, let me go. I'll be dead in an alleyway 'fore the year ends. Ain't no cop gonna believe me; it's not like I got any proof."

The gun finally lowers completely. "I'm not going to kill you."

"Is that in a horror movie torture house sort of way, or a I'm going to beat the hell out of you and dump you at the nearest station to pad out a jail cell sort of way?"

"Neither. You can look at me, you know. I'm not going to bite."

Amethyst looks, but only because she doesn't want to provoke the woman. She's fairly surprised; she'd expected a strong, buff girl, but the one holding the gun is thin. She's tall and graceful-looking, with milky white skin and baby blue eyes. Strawberry blonde hair is cut short to her ears. She's wearing a fucking nightgown. Amethyst almost got offed by a scrawny white girl in a blue nightgown.

"Wow." She says blankly. "Movies lie."

"Of course they do." She replied flatly. Her mouth is drawn in a stern line. "I'm going to un-tie you. If you run or try to fight me, I'll shoot you in the thigh."

"Yes, ma'am."

She leans over her to do so. Amethyst stares at the red blankets.

"Call me Pearl." She hums while she works. "It's not my birth name, obviously, but it'll do."

"Amethyst. Fuck birth names."

"Alright then, Amethyst. Here's what's going to happen. I'll let you go, but first I'm going to clean your clothes. You're also going to take a shower."

"Huh?"

"I like things to be clean. It'll bug me if you don't. I'd feed you myself, but you'll probably assume I poisoned it. I'll give you cash for MacDonald's instead."

"I wouldn't do that." She warns, rubbing her raw wrists. "Treat me decently and I might latch on."

"You won't. I'll leave you in the middle of the forest if you do. Shower is two doors on the left."

"Yes, ma'am."

Amethyst ditches her clothes. At this point in her day, she honestly don't give a fuck. Kudos to Pearl for not freaking out when she spots her happy trail.

"That looks prison-done." She says instead, nodding to the black oriental designs that stretch from her left wrist and up to the middle of her forearm. From a distance it looks nice, but once you get close you realize it's shit.

"I've been to juvy and jail both, so I've had plenty of time." She shrugs, belly and boobs rolling. Shit, this is awkward. "I stabbed someone in the face the first time. Got caught mugging the second."

"The first sounds highly ineffective. Were you trying to kill him?"

"He made fun of my mum."

"Highly ineffective." She repeats.

Amethyst steps into the hall, thankful to find them without windows. The walls are clean white, with some stupid ass paintings that look straight out of a waiting room. The carpet is plain, with a few red rectangle rugs marking out a path to a stairwell.

Not in the mood to explore, Amethyst turns into the bathroom and locks it behind her. More tile, more rugs, small window she couldn't hope to crawl out of. Whatever. Turning the water on as hot as her skin could allow, Amethyst stepped into the spray with a delighted shudder, wetting her hair with clumsy hands.

Still. This is weird.

Pouring too much shampoo onto her hand, Amethyst began to lather, remembering the unsure look in the woman's eye. Had she never taken a hostage before? If so then she was damn lucky. No one really noticed when a criminal disappears.

This discarded the serial killer theory, anyway. At least, she figured it did. She didn't know of any serial killer who let their prey roam around their house and did their laundry. Mobster seemed unlikely; the place was fancy, but it wasn't drug den fancy, and Pearl didn't seem like the type to work in the business so precariously easy to destroy.

That left one option; assassin. Fan-fucking-tastic.

That explained a lot. Amethyst had long-guessed the squishy thing in the attic was a body- she must've broke in right after the killing, and, panicked, Pearl knocked her out to cover her own ass.

Or maybe she was a serial killer, but had been discouraged by lil' dangler. Maybe she thought that made her a man, and she couldn't bring herself to touch her. Good. Fuck Pearl.

Amethyst took her time, mostly to avoid Pearl. Killer or assassin, that didn't make it any easier to make idle chat with her. She's a petty thief, small-fry. Maybe she oughta bow to her on the way out.

(But what if she recognized the sarcasm? Amethyst didn't want to lose lil' dangler.)

She made sure to completely dry herself off. All the way. Not a drop of water. She probably spends a good half-hour sitting on a towel. Her skin looks almost an entire shade of brown brighter, she feels lighter than a bird. Now would be a good time to get out of dodge.

Amethyst follows the sound of the dryer, holding her towel in a death grip. Pearl is nowhere to be found, but there's a note.

 _Money is on the counter. Be gone by the time I'm back._

Amethyst shudders. Was this a privacy matter, or did she have another job?

She felt tempted. She really, really did. The money she could make pocketing those rocks could easily feed and house her for months. They also required she get in trouble with a trained killer. She left them alone.

Once clean, she pulled her garments back on, mildly surprised to find an old gray hoodie left inside the machine. _That_ is one thing she's more than willing to take. It's a bit long, but it fits in the belly, which is all she wants.

Amethyst slips outside the house and pulls the door shut, locking it with the key Pearl so generously left her. Again she's tempted, and again she follows common sense. She shoves her hands into her new pockets and begins the long walk to _anywhere but here._

* * *

It's months later when they meet again. Well, Pearl seeks her out, anyway.

It's ladies night at the bar. Amethyst sits as temptingly as someone can on a bar stool and waits for somebody to- hopefully- buy her a drink. It's the middle of winter and she needs a place to crash after work.

That's when Pearl struts in, and she almost chokes on the strand of hair she'd been chewing on. Honestly, she has absolutely no clue what she's doing; she fidgets in a tux, awkwardly moving through the crowd. Too high-brow and too new. Bound to raise some eyebrows.

But it's not so much the clothes she's wearing as it is _the woman who assassinated for a living and thought she might know too much was in a gay bar looking for a familiar face._

Relax. Keep calm. Running makes you look like a snitch. She leans back to give her an innocent look. "Buy a girl a drink?"

"Aren't you too young to be frequenting a bar?" Pearl returns, sliding in beside her. She calls the bartender over for whatever was good. "Or to be looking for company?"

"Relax. I give; I don't take."

"You take plenty non-sexual things, I bet. Not a fan of it?"

"I don't like it with strangers, no. My body isn't very good at reacting to it, either, or maybe I would."

"I didn't imagine you to be the romantic type."

"I'd tell you to fuck off, but I don't want to die."

"Wise choice." Pearl nods her gratitude as the bartender sets a glass of liquid before her. "You have my hoodie."

"Yup."

"I want it back."

"It's covered in stains."

"I don't care."

"'Kay." Amethyst reluctantly pulled the comfy thing off, missing it immediately when the breeze hits her paper thin shirt. "Here. Can I have that?"

"You're not old enough."

"Who told you that? I've been through the system, man."

"For three days. Your 'victim' refused to press charges and you went free."

"You looked me up!" She blinks at her. "That's creepy."

"What's really creepy is that you're nineteen," she counters, taking the smallest sip known to man, "and you're living such a life that this is your only way to get shelter."

"There's other ways." Damn it, damn it, damn it. One wrong whisper and she'll never get another night in bed around here. She doesn't like falling back on wallets and invasions.

"Very few that will get you someplace warm." Pearl examined the hoodie, then broke her professional character to wrap an arm around her. "How about I take you home? I have plenty of spare room."

"Karma save me. You really are a serial killer. This was all some big game, wasn't it?"

She said, wryly; "You make it sound like getting away with murder is easy."

"Says the woman who did so after being stumbled upon by a random ass thief."

"It's like you said- no one would believe you. Let's go." She pointedly steers her off of the stool and out the bar. A black van is waiting in the parking lot. "I don't want you to stumble into an unsafe situation."

"You just think I'm cute."

"I won't deny that, but you're not the only one who doesn't do well with one night stands. Get in."

Amethyst sprawls out in the back seat, feeling tipsy without any alcohol. Pearl fastens her seatbelt, starts the car, and begins to drive. They don't speak, for a time.

"That hoodie belonged to an old friend of mine." Pearl says finally. "She passed away recently."

"Oh. My bad."

"No, no. I should've remembered it was in there. I kept it in the dryer to avoid getting it messy."

"Well, shit. I'm already off to a great start."

* * *

Pearl's bed is the softest thing Amethyst has laid on in years, and she stretches out on her stomach. Pearl bought her some night clothes on the way back, and the rough fabric feels weird against her skin.

"Did you make all this moola killin' people, or what?"

Pearl cringes a bit and slips in beside her. It feels like two new friends having their first sleepover. "A little of that, but I also received a decent amount of money from my parents."

"Rich girl turned killer, huh?"

"Again, you make the assumption that I go off on random killing sprees."

"Why not?"

"Being discrete is a challenge. I like a good challenge."

That's probably why she's still putting up with her shit, then. "You like killing?"

"Only when it's a douchebag." She corrects, fiddling with the blanket pooled around her waist. "Can I see your arm? I've been wanting to get a closer look."

"Woohoohoo! Such language!" She snorts, but hands her arm over. "Stupidest decision of my life. I shoulda known they'd suck."

"Asking if I like killing is like asking if you like stealing." Pearl continued, tracing the wobbly patterns. "It's an adrenaline thing, not so much the act itself. I have a rule about people who are marginally innocent, so I don't regret seeing them lowered into the ground on TV. The act, occasionally, but not who's gone. Is this a trans activism symbol?"

"Huh?" Amethyst twists her arm to see the softer underside. "A misguided version thereof, maybe."

"I thought it looked off."

"Eh. I give 'em kudos all the same. Just wish I'd gotten it done pro-style."

"Fair enough." Pearl agrees. Amethyst shifts awkwardly.

"I don't steal just for my sake, you know? I kinda owe somebody."

"It's not a drug lord, is it?"

"Nah. I ain't stupid enough to get in debt with those fuckheads. It's a bud of mine." She glanced at her chest, pressing comfortingly to the blankets. "They bought my surgery."

"They must make a decent amount."

"She's a rich girl too. We go way back. I think it pisses her off that I don't live with her."

"A roof over your head _is_ more important than pride or dignity, you know."

"Were you listening? She bought me _surgery_. Not half-surgery, or part of a surgery, but a whole goddamn surgery! That's a lot of money already. I ain't gonna rack up her expenses _more_ , hoggin' the shower and buying batteries in bulk."

"That was an incredibly tasteless joke."

"Are you saying you _don't_ have battery-operated friends?"

Pearl's cheeks flare up, but she keeps a mostly detached air. "Of course not. Most people do."

"Lucky bitch."

"Did you know that a blow to the nose can send the bone into your skull, killing you instantly?"

"I'll shut up now."

"Good girl."

Pearl eventually lets go of her arm, which she tucks under her pillow. It's hand embroidered, and suddenly Amethyst really wants to pick up cross-stitching again. "You looked me up."

"Only your basic information. A background check, basically."

"So you know a lot about me."

"Legal document don't make a person, but if you prefer to consider them as such, then, yes."

"I call bull. You know a lot about me, when what do I know about you? That you're rich?"

"I also have a job. There's that."

"Bull."

"Alright, alright." She sullenly slipped under the covers completely, holding out her arms. "I can't do this with you staring at me."

Amethyst pulled the top half of her body into her embrace, other half sprawled away. There's nothing nearly as nice as being hugged by a girl you like.

"Oh, where to begin." She plucks at her long hair, freshly cleaned from yet another shower. "I'm the oldest of triplets. I don't talk to them often, though I probably should."

"Please tell me you're all assassins. Please say you're in some crazy triplet assassin pact."

"One is an overpaid accountant, while the other is a ballerina. The second is mute, and the first never learned not to talk with her nose in the air."

"Aww, that's no fun."

"Both of my parents are dead. No, I didn't kill them. Although, I _do_ like to think it was Karma. I inherited the most because they thought I was the tamest. I don't think they realized I'm a flaming homosexual."

"You're kidding, right? _That's_ what would've bothered them?"

"They were the kind of rich people you see on TV. If they knew about my job, they probably would've just tried to have me take out their enemies. They had fallen out with many people throughout their lives. Pity it was Nature that took them."

She falls silent after that. Amethyst pushes her nose into Pearl's nightshirt and forces herself not to think about that hoodie. That was a story for a different time, if ever, and it would probably make her feel inadequate.

"That friend you mentioned- her name wouldn't happen to be Peridot, would it?"

Amethyst's eyebrows raise. "What the fuck, Pearl."

Pearl is smiling a little bit. "I think you might like to join me tomorrow."

* * *

Pearl fusses over what Amethyst should wear, and isn't very pleased when she chooses jeans and a black hoodie, but eventually accepts it.

"I could buy you any dress or suit you want," she gripes, pulling up a pair of stockings, "and you wear grunge."

"Pearl, I'm your plus one, not your mistress." Amethyst laughs. "If I dressed up they'd think otherwise."

"I'm aware of that." She says smoothly, pushing a lock of hair off her ears. "You'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"I don't need to blend in."

"There are... nice things. There."

"You _want_ me to steal?"

"Not necessarily. But I wouldn't be opposed, so long as you don't get caught. We're not going to make friends."

Amethyst refuses the urge to look at her purse. She knows there's poison hidden away inside. "They won't."

The ballroom is a local joint, with a sloping roof that's a lot cheaper than it looks. Amethyst hadn't passed through before, but there's so many nooks and crannies it presents itself as a hobo's dream. They slip inside.

Amethyst was never a professional, but she's got a knack with her sticky fingers. The first guy to shake her hand loses an an expensive wedding band, and a priceless family heirloom may have escaped the pocket of a teenager who had obviously snuck in. Pearl flashes her a smile, and it's hard to tell if she's noticed.

Peridot is a scrawny girl, clad in a mint green dress and a green hijab. Amethyst hasn't seen her in years, busy surviving and sending bits and pieces of money to her in return for her surgery, but she still laughs and cries out a greeting as she runs up to her, hugging Amethyst.

"I knew you were looking to snag a rich woman," Peridot jokes when they part. "But it didn't have to be her. I'm always open."

"I kinda owe you some things." She returns. Pearl digs her fingers into Amethyst's shoulder. "Can we catch up later?"

"Definitely." She says, but Amethyst sees a flicker of unease in her eyes. She wonders just how well Peridot is educated in Pearl's line of business.

Pearl slips away into the crowd while Amethyst heads to the buffet. This is a party for middle-class hotshots who like to pretend they're rich; overconfident assholes who are easy to outmaneuver. She takes only two more pieces, unwilling to draw much attention to herself. Grabbing a bottle of beer by the neck, she leans against the wall and waits.

It's oddly nostalgic. Just a few months ago she'd been waiting for her, hearing the creak of footsteps upstairs. Things never go according to plan.

They still don't.

* * *

Amethyst overreacts to the gunshot, but only because she knows Pearl never brought a gun. One broken window and glass in her hair later, Amethyst keeps jogging the whole way home. She can't call, can't check with the police, so she takes a shower instead.

It's nice. She's a bit greedy for warm water, but only because so many years have gone by without it. It's almost more addicting than Meth.

Part of her regrets going. Sure, she snagged some goods, but all it did for her long term was make her hella suspicious. Breaking through a window after a gun pops- what the fuck.

Amethyst swallows panic and a mouthful of water. It's stupid decisions like that, that will forever keep her amateur. It's probably for the best it does.

"Amethyst?" There's a light tap on the door.

Amateur that she is, she reacts accordingly, jumping a foot in the air and slamming her elbow into the wall. " _Jesus_ fuck!"

"Not quite, although I wouldn't mind the latter." Pearl quietly titters. "Are you okay?"

"I'm an idiot, but otherwise chill." She rubs her arm, feeling the gentle tug of wet skin. "Sorry about scrambling."

"I'm glad you did. Getting questioned by the police needs a certain finesse."

"Do they think it was you?"

"No, because it wasn't."

"Competition?"

"Not quite. My target- it's easier to dehumanize than it is to admit it, little fun fact- seemed to realize I'd poisoned him, and took care of it accordingly."

"He offed himself?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Amethyst distractedly wipes soap off her belly. "I suppose you weren't serious about that fucking comment?"

"I never kid." She gently slipped to the floor, the back of her head lightly thudding against the door. "It's been a long day."

"No kiddin'."

"Are you opposed? I have a chest if you are."

"Not opposed." Amethyst says. "Although we'll have to clear the elephant in the room."

"Oh?"

"I have a dick, P."

There's a pause. "I'm all for having a healthy body-image, but I sincerely doubt it's the size of an elephant."

"Ha. That was a stupid fucking joke."

"Sorry. I wanted to make you laugh." She gently twiddled her thumbs. "I'm well-aware of that, Amethyst. That you're trans, I mean. It's never been a secret."

"You don't know how far I'd transitioned, though. I wanted to tell you."

"You make it sound like you want more surgery. Do you?"

"No. I like how I am." She crossed her arms over her chest. "But I know I'm not exactly what most people are lookin' for."

"Is that why you were on your own?"

Amethyst doesn't answer.

"I'm sorry. I knew that was too far, but the statistics are so horrifically high and-"

"It's fine. I'm fine." Amethyst cuts off the water and steps onto the bath mat, feeling a bit like a bad stereotype. "You aren't wrong. My folks think I'm a dude. They tried to force me to be a dude. I said fuck it and left. That's all there is to it."

"That's no reason for you to have to starve on the streets. I'm sorry you went through that."

"To be fair, I _was_ the kid who stabbed a motherfucker. I'd be ready to ditch me too." She dabbed at her chest with a fluffy white towel. Amethyst ignores the old ball of feelings by slam dunking them into the abyss. "Are you good with dicks?"

"I don't know, honestly. I've never tried it. But there's always the chest if it goes south. There's plenty of ways to have fun."

"Alright, I'm coming out." She said, and she hadn't uttered those words in years. "I'm kinda naked. My clothes got covered in glass."

"All the better." She hums approvingly. "Unless, of course, you prefer I didn't?"

"No, no. That's cool. Just don't kill me and we'll be good."

* * *

Pearl is nice enough to give her a second to regain her energy, lips smacking thoughtfully, as she presses her embarrassed head to her chest.

Five minutes. Not even five minutes. Fucking hell.

It's not a matter of it was good or not. It's simply a lack of resistance, an impatient tendency she'll probably never learn to control. Let's hope Pearl doesn't mind.

"I hope you realize I'm one of those bitches who takes breaking up as well as a tank takes a soldier running in front of it."

"Is that supposed to intimidate me?"

"No. Just thought you'd want a warning."

"Warning appreciated, but I'm already living under the assumption that you can copy my key and ransack my house when I'm not looking."

She laughs quietly into her PJ shirt and drifts off to sleep. Pearl will kill her for it later, but she's done for the night.

 **Author's Note: I was actually surprised to hear this wasn't an AU yet! It fit so well! (Basically this was all gay jokes and Amethyst being her awesome self)**

 **-Mandaree1**


End file.
